Face the Music
by The Shylock
Summary: He knew the grief from his father's mistakes would be felt far and wide. Now more than ever he needed to separate personal indulgences from duty. As his silent sobs ring out in the openness of the lair, he mourns for someone else: Adrien Agreste. Adrien and Chat had been in conflict with one another, but the fact is Chat must win. Must always win. The time for ignorance is over.


**A/N: I'll keep this short: This story takes place during the characters' junior year, or in France, their 12th year. It isn't in continuity with season 2 although it technically takes place afterwards. (I could only work with what I know since I haven't seen Season 2.) Also! I made the characters a bit more...mature. Enjoy!**

Penny In The Air…

I'm watching my instructor speak, but I can't hear anything anymore. _Performing in the school courtyard. At lunch. Fuse technique with emotion._ _Marinette taking the lead._ I fiddle with the rubber band-like bracelet on my left wrist. Why would she want me to take the lead? Does she know me at all?

Don't get me wrong. Joining _Fusion des Passionnes_ was by far one of the best choices I've made in my school career. I can express myself without having to worry about the repercussions, unlike Ladybug. You let the music take you away and the emotions bleed through the movements. Don't have to think. That, along with the intricacy involved with breakdancing technique and the judgement free atmosphere of the class has done wonders for my dexterity, helping me to progress from my 15-year old bumbling self. It has been my safe bubble, shielding me from my insecurities. And I am in no way ready for it to be popped.

A hand rests gently on my shoulder, drawing me out of my thoughts. I spin around to see a pair of honey brown eyes staring at me behind a pair of glasses. "You okay, Marinette?" He lets his fingers pull down on the tail of his red cap.

I'm so glad that Nino joined the class with me, so I wouldn't be alone. He says he joined so he could immerse himself in the different aspects of music, but we both know he did it because Alya was too busy to go to the classes with me.

It's understandable with her being editor of the school's online newspaper. And running the Ladyblog. And managing her younger sisters. And learning American Sign Language. _And_ being a notetaker for one of the deaf stu-you know what? She's busy. Let's leave it at that.

"I'm fine, Nino. Why do you ask?" He shrugs. "You didn't hear a word Taylor said. She even waved a hand in front of your face, but you were gone."

I tuck one of my loose hair strands behind my ear. "Sorry. I guess I'm nervous."

He snorts. "Don't be! You're one of the best dancers in here. Besides, Alya and-and I will be there with you." He squeezes his lips together, forming a hard line. He's not telling me something. I narrow my eyes. "Who else?"

He feigns innocence. He's such a terrible liar. "What are you talking about?"

"Nino. Who. Else?" "Shh. Do you hear that?" He asks, while cupping his ear. I open my mouth to end his stalling, but he beats me to it. "No, really. Listen." His eyebrows furrow.

I can't hear anything besides the normal cloud of commotion that settles when the dancers leave. They're discussing how they're going to complete next week's task of completing the choreography to _Ukuthula_ -the Zulu prayer for peace. I shake my head.

"You can almost hear Alya sitting at her desk, contemplating whether or not to snatch me by my edges. See you in two hours!" He bolts for the door, squeezing past the cloud. Damn it.

Wait. Wait. Oh, no. It can't be- Please let it be anyone but him.

Although it has been a year since Adrien and I have gotten past the emotional whirlpool that was Luka and Kagami, our relationship isn't the same. It's not awkward, but it's not comfortable. That's what makes it unbearable.

Stark heat emanates from my core, spreading to my fingertips and toes. Am I having a heat flash? Sweat begins to condense on my back. Maybe it isn't him, Mari. Oh, who are you kidding? Of course, it's him.

After grabbing my gym bag and purse, I run into the bathroom. Thank goodness, it's a single stall.

Tikki hovers out as I unlatch my purse, her eyes filled with worry. "What's wrong Marinette?" I drag my hands down my face. "I think Adrien is going to be at my performance today." Admitting it makes my chest feel wonkier.

The little red-and-black kwami tilts her head. "What's wrong with that? I thought you wanted to reach the level of friendship you once had." "I do, Tikki."

It's my fault we've changed. I should have trusted Adrien's interest in Kagami as friendship as opposed to letting my jealousy aggrandize the whole situation. I should have _talked to him_. I shouldn't have chosen Luka. God, I shouldn't have chosen Luka.

I mean, Luka wasn't a terrible person. He was quite the opposite. Kind. Sweet. Caring. Empathetic. Open. But the whole time I measured him to Adrien and ended up breaking his heart.

Tikki puts her paws on my cheeks. "Well, at least you're amicable. That's a start." "What am I going to say?" "Well, you can start off with 'Hi' and see where the situation takes you from there," Tikki says with a giggle.

I give her a small smile. I don't think Tikki knows how much I love her. It's so kind of her to comfort me and give tidbits of wisdom for my problems- even though they must seem so trifling compared to past Ladybug wielders. She's an amazing friend. "You're right Tikki. I should stop worrying and take the moment as it comes."

Tikki smiles at her. "That's my Marinette. Now, come on! We have less than two hours to practice for your solo."

* * *

He does not look like Adrien Agreste today. As opposed to looking put together, he looked like he traded his sanity in for a grade. Wait, sorry. Not he. Me. I'm so tired I can't continually think in the first person.

If you spent the past 12 hours staring at a computer screen computing binary code with Max spouting off technical terms at you at the speed of sound; been beaten within an inch of your life by someone who was akumatized; and listening to your Professors drone on, you'd forget how to function as a human being too.

Function. Endless Loop: n, see Loop, Endless. Loop, Endless: n., see Endless loop. _Are you still on that programming joke Max showed you? Instead of the puns? Wow. You must really need to go to sleep._ Plagg's voice reverberates in the back of his head.

I can feel him rustling in the hood of my t-shirt. We've recently started strengthening our telepathic bond. While it's great during akuma battles, it's sometimes annoying hearing him moan about how hungry he is in day-to-day life, or make quips about him.

You know what, Plagg? Byte me. _Stop. Just. Stop._

I'm walking in the most comfortable clothes I own: a cotton blue t-shirt with no logos, grey Under Armour sweatpants, and black Converse. I didn't bother to shave, and I didn't style my hair.

Oh, right. My hair. It's paw-sitively craptastic, as Nino made sure to kindly point out last night. That's another reason to wallow in the hideousness of today. I prepare myself to hear Plagg's groaning, but it doesn't come. _I'll take this. Anything's better compared to your computer science one-liners._

Anyways.

I see Alya walking down the stairs. Her shoulder length auburn balayage layers fan in the breeze. Man. I wonder how much space I would have in my brain if I didn't know all of the fashion terminology I do.

We agreed to meet in the school courtyard to watch Nino's performance. She looks at me with confusion at first. But as we get closer to each other, her eyes widen. "Adrien? Is that you?"

I fight the urge to wear my sarcastic smile. It isn't her fault I'm in such a sourpuss mood. I settle on a toothy grin. "Nope. It's the model formerly known as Adrien." She chuckles at that. "Max ran you hard last night, huh?"

"You have no idea." I groan. "The sooner we finish the programming on this app, the better."

For my computer science and principles course, we had to partner up and create a new app that can be used on your phone. That's a fitting project with everything that we've learned. Problem is, we were given 3 weeks to do it, and I lost half of last week shooting a commercial in America. I'll lose another half-day this week.

At least I didn't have to worry about who would cover Chat Noir now that there was the Miraculous team. From what I've heard, the Turtle, Queen Bee, and Volpina have done an excellent job while I was away. Of course, Ladybug did amazing. Because she is amazing. Great leader, kindred spirit, patient teacher. Chat Noir's better half.

Alya offers me a cup of coffee. "Here. This will help to jump start your day." I give my thanks, and down it. Columbian coffee. Excellent.

A crowd is starting to gather in a section around the courtyard. We walk towards the edge of it. I can see Alya staring at me from my periphery, so I raise my eyebrows, insinuating that she can ask her question. "What made you get a Quiff?"

I cringe at the word. Quiff. "It wasn't by choice. My father strongly _suggested_ I do a commercial for Dior, and they requested I shave my sides and cut the top." I can still feel the presence of my chopped hair. Makes me feel oddly vulnerable.

She nods her head. "Well, it makes you look…" she trails off. "Like a tool?" I offer.

She laughs as she adjusts her glasses. "No. It makes you look more mature. But when paired with the stubble? Makes you look less boy-next-door and more wild child." Funny. That's what the director said.

Oh, well. On the bright side, I look as wild as I feel when I'm Chat Noir. He's more like the true me then Adrien is. I wonder if Ladybug is the true self and who's underneath is the mask.

"I appreciate that, Alya." I throw the coffee cup into the nearest trash receptacle as we reach the courtyard. "How's it going with the sign language?" She shrugs. "As well as can be expected. I make a few errors now and then, but it's definitely coming along."

We've both come a long way when it comes to conversing with each other, but it's still pretty surface. It's not my right to ask for anything more, though. We don't have the same bond as Nino and I, or her and Marinette.

Marinette.

A pang rings through my chest as I think her name. Her limpid blue eyes come to mind, framed with her long eyelashes. Then the freckles that dot her cheeks. Her dazzling smile. I can feel myself cave in as I dwell on my memories of her. How long has it been since I've given her more than a hello?

A year, the voice in my head says. It's been a whole year. How did I let a whole year pass? My neck starts to tingle with shame. You could have tried harder, Agreste. You need to try harder.

 _She hasn't tried either_ , Plagg counters.

I swallow my irritation. Sure, she hasn't been able to say more than a meek greeting either. But it wasn't her fault our relationship wasn't the same. I should have believed her when she said that Kagami was romantically pursuing him.

"That's good", I sign to Alya. "If you need any help, let me know". "Thank you," she says absently. But she isn't looking at me. She's pulling out her phone and starting to record the group that's walking towards the middle of the semi-circle the crowd has created. Where we happen to be.

I can see Taylor, the substitute dance instructor. She's a college student at Universite Paris 1 Pantheon-Sorbonne. She's passionate about the arts and helping people reach their full potential. I'm not saying I'm happy that the previous dance teacher took maternity leave, but…I'm glad she's gone. Nino has been much happier with Taylor as his teacher, which means he whines to me less when I sleep over at his house.

She's at the front of the group, speaking to Nino. Probably about the routine. She had tapered champagne curls—why do I know that? Oh, yeah. Saw them on Father's proofs—that contrasted with her umber skin. Had honey brown eyes like Nino's, and had about a foot on him.

Adrien may pay attention to the fashion details of the world, but it's Chat Noir that learned to remember distinct qualities of people. Sometimes it makes it easier to debunk who the akumatized victim is and figure out why they were chosen.

But I didn't need either to know the identity of the person behind the instructor. Marinette wears grey sweatpants like mine, a white tank top, and a pink half shirt with a bedazzled crown over it. It's the shirt I gave her 18 months ago.

Alright, you can remember that, but you can't remember to say more than hello? Come, on. Get your priorities together.

Heat pools to my cheeks as I look at her. Her face is more angular. Her freckles are no longer on the apples of her cheeks-they come down to her top lip. Her eyelashes are thicker, her lips are fuller, and she lifts her head higher. Her mature features are framed by her loose pearl blue tresses.

She's beautiful. As I look at her stretching, the walls that I built in my mind come crashing down. The emotional drag lifts. I am awakened.

Nino whispers something in her ear while snickering, and suddenly she looks at me. Her lips part, and her body stiffens. I can see her eyes becoming shinier. I didn't realize I stopped breathing until I heard Chloe gasp overdramatically.

Chloe's staring at me. More specifically, my hair. "Nice look, Adrikins!" She winks.

I flick the hood of my shirt over my head and cross my arms and grimace. Plagg hisses against my ear. _Watch it._ I ignore his warning.

They could at least pretend not to be ogling it. Then I remember how unlike myself I look and start panicking. Marinette looks flawless, and I look…like this.

But when I turn my attention back to Marinette, she is smiling at me. I give one back, with a roll of my eyes that say, 'Can you believe some people?' She runs her tongue over her teeth as she laughs. Relief washes over me.

Taylor stands right next to her. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Are you ready to be blown away?" Her voice rings out against the openness of the space.

The crowd cheers as a response. "Then let's do this."

* * *

As soon as the Afropunk beat starts, my worries disappear. Because of the practice I squeezed in between classes and during study hour, I didn't need to count the steps in my head or focus on how tight the movements are. I'm doing it! I'm having fun despite the eyes on me. I don't even care that my cap falls off and my hair gets in my face.

The ease that comes with this routine allows me to focus on what Taylor calls "attitude". She says that you can have the movements down like it's second nature, but it doesn't matter if you don't give the correct emotions with the piece. She's right.

I can see from her grin that I'm giving more attitude than I ever have before. I start laughing.

Nino sticks his tongue out as we whip. I give him a smirk as I nay-nay. This mental tug-of-war continues throughout the whole piece, which excites the crowd even more.

When the song, called _Humble_ , repeats the chorus, we slide into a sitting position and start milly rocking as we bob against the ground. I still cannot believe she convinced the principal to let us practice to this-let alone perform it- with the justification that we were studying world music.

The beat puts me in a state of euphoria, which ends when Nino jumps up and pulls Alya to the center as we repeat the dance again. I look over and see who's standing next to her. Adrien's rocking his head to the beat, elation etched into his face. Although they're streaked with red, his eyes burn with white, hot intensity.

When he sees me staring, he gleams. 'Great job', he mouths. 'Thanks.' My confidence falters a little bit.

I cannot get over how attractive he looks. He was an effortless beauty before. But now? With his stubble? And his Quiff? His sexiness is on a whole other level. It makes me start to reflect on how crazy I must look right now.

I do the movements to the next song, _Formation,_ but not with the same joy. Taylor doesn't notice.

When Nino and I's turn is over, we head into the ground, supporting the other groups. My voice sounds rough by the time I'm done with my cheering.

"That was amazing," Alya cries. Nino winks at her. "Thanks, I know." "I wasn't talking to you."

Adrien bursts out laughing. "Looks like you just got humbled." Nino shoots him daggers. "I thought you were too tired to make puns." "Oh, I'll always try for you, honey."

"You both are ridiculous," Alya says. But I can see her shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. I remove my hands from my mouth and let my laughter erupt. Adrien turns in my direction. His smile is so full of mirth, it melts me a bit.

A mischievous glint forms in Nino's eye. "Don't you think Mari did phenomenal, Adri?" He asks, an edge to his voice. Adrien's snark simmers a bit as his smile falters. "Of course, she did. Mari always does a great job with artistic tasks."

My chest tightens. Does he think of me so highly? I wish he didn't. I wish he did.

"Would you say she's better than me?" Nino wraps his arms around Alya. The answer to that, is no. Nino is on the same caliber as I am. What I make up in emotion, he makes up in technique.

Adrien snorts. "No question. She smoked you." I bite my lip to stop from giggling.

"Great! Then she should be the one to help you with the choreography for the music commercial later this week, sweetie!"

Alya elbows Nino in the ribs and looks at me with brightened eyes. Dancing with Adrien? Alone? My stomach flips at the possibilities that this could bring. _But this could also be dangerous_ , a voice that sounds a lot like Tikki's whispers. Could this go wrong? Sure. It could blow out the flames of their reignited spark. But it could also fan them.

"Really?" Adrien's voice sounds hollow. He clears his throat. "I mean, yeah. Sure! If Marinette is comfortable with that." Everyone turns to look at me.

He gives an encouraging smile, but it doesn't reach to his eyes. Maybe he doesn't want me to teach him. Is he still sore from our misunderstanding? Or am I overthinking it? Lack of communication is what caused us to be in this mess in the first place. I should agree, since it's a chance to clear the air. I owe him that much. And myself.

I stop snapping my bracelet. Realization dawns as he sees it's the lucky charm bracelet he gave to me two years ago. "I'd love to help you Adrien. I'm sure Taylor wouldn't mind if we used her studio after hours. " In my peripheral, Alya and Nino start backing away slowly.

He shifts the weight on his feet. "Great! Is it okay if we meet around 6?" "Yup! See you then."

Let's hope I didn't just make a huge mistake.

* * *

 **I do NOT own the rights to this show or any of its characters.**

 **A/N:**

 **Well, that was something. I honestly don't know how I feel about this, but thank you for reading it. Is it good? Is it bad? I don't know. But here it is anyway. Whether you like it or not, do me a favor? Leave a review? I could use the constructive criticism in order to sharpen my writing skills.**

 **If you're wondering why Adrien feels out of character, that will be explained in Part 2. There's a reason, I promise.**

 **The second part will be posted soon!**

 **-TS**

 **In case you didn't understand...**

 **Quiff: a modern hairstyle that has the sides of the hair shaved and the top cut short, yet longer than the sides.**

 **Snatched by my edges: Hurt me.**

 **Fusion des Passionnes:** **Fusion of the Passionate. I wanted to call it Nerdology, but I felt this described the class better. That will be explained in Part 2 as well.**

 **Nay-nay, whip and milly walking: All forms of modern dance. If you want to see the inspiration for their dancing, go on YouTube and look up Humble choreography. It's the video posted by Tim Milgram.**


End file.
